


The Iron Dream Catcher

by TheBloodRedRuby



Category: Iron Fey Series - Julie Kagawa
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, Multi, Romance, been lurking in the fandom for years, finally enough confidence to post, ran out of material to read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-04-12 14:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBloodRedRuby/pseuds/TheBloodRedRuby
Summary: They called her a traitor. She acknowledged that she was one. All she knew was that she did what she was told to do, and she regretted all of it. With so many looking to her as a substitute salvation, her heart may have eventually fled the cause in favor of that Seelie man, but her image still drove forth a movementWhen it came down to it, did she lead a revolution or a rebellion?





	1. Chapter 1

The wyldwood, with its suffocating fog and the lurking ravenous glares just out of view, was never truly quiet. Constant hunts and dying howls plagued the monochrome forest, but if someone were to stand perfectly still, the cacophony of fear and death seemed little more than unsettling ambiance. An occasional resounding scream broke out from the looping soundtrack, but it rarely did anything other than startle a resting creature. So a barking horde of brambles stampeding after their prey hardly warranted the attention of any other beasts as they sliced through the woods.

She let loose a shriek of profanities as wildflowers ensnared her ankle and sent her to the forest floor. She should have seen them, a near electric blue in the misty monotonous gray. Tumbling down a steep sloping hill, she wrestled to keep her limbs out of the maw of a hedge wolf. It snapped and snarled as it aimed for her throat. The rest of its pack bounded after them, determined to get a piece of the kill. Reaching the base of the decline, she hit the ground hard and twisted awkwardly to get to her feet. One of the hounds managed to sink its teeth into her calf. Yelping, she somehow kicked it from her leg and continued to flee as best she could with blood trailing every step.

Cursing the density of the undergrowth, the woman wondered why they would chase after her with the amount of iron she wore. Perhaps her human scent overwhelmed the lethal stench of metal. She knew that with the coppery reek of blood in the air adding to the jostling of her chain skirt and heady perfume, she had no way to lose the mutts in the woods. The only choice left was to fight. So reaching a miniscule clearing, she delved her left hand into her satchel for something serrated, threw the bag up into a nearby tree, and spun on her attackers. Brandishing her weapons, the wolves hesitated at the added presence of iron.

She flexed her right hand, polished metal reaching over her nails in sharpened talons. How grateful she was that she chose to take the time to fit the clawed rings on that morning. She did not anticipate a fight and now cursed herself for not carrying her blades on her at all times. Nonetheless, the tipped steel jewelry connected with short chains to a bracelet was more than just an accessory. Nothing could ever be just for show in the Nevernever. Their lethality was proved by the stinging gouges in her sides and the slashes in her shirt from her spill. Sure, they made writing and contact with others difficult, if not dangerous, but they finally got to serve their intended purpose of surprise self-defense. Her left hand occupied a bagh naka, four curved blades resting against her palm on a crossbar between her thumb and pinkie. She may not have had her swords, but she still had a longer knife-edge to put some distance between her and threats, no matter how small.

A few of the hounds hunkered down and backed away, knowing better than to tangle with iron, especially since their prey had deigned that she no longer needed to flee. The more arrogant of the pack simply growled and circled around her. With fewer threats, she knew she could take the rest on without too much difficulty. The woman sunk slowly until she was level with the wolves and then lunged at the one to her left. She slashed across its face and felt its mass unravel as she swiveled. Another leapt at her, but she hooked the blade of the bagh naka in its snapping jaw and slammed it into the ground. The impact sent a flush of glamour like a tidal wave, and the sickening feel of the foreign iron slammed into the remaining pack. More bowed out of the fight.

A final wolf charged, determined to get its reward after such a chase. She not so much as dodged than collapsed on her wounded leg, but she ripped into its flank with her taloned rings. It yipped and whimpered as it landed, limping away with the decision that this kill was not worth its life. She scrambled to her feet and swelled her glamour around her as the pack finally faded back into the woods with defeated snarls.

\-----

Puck had been lounging in a color-drained tree, twirling his daggers between his fingers in utter boredom, when the strongest scent of green apples he had ever smelled practically rammed into him. With him being who he was, he naturally followed the trail, becoming more intrigued as signs of a struggle and chase aligned with the wafting smell. Having caught up to the fleeing figure, he kept pace with her without gaining her attention. Once they reached the clearing, Puck idled in a tree to watch the brutal slaughter.

He regretted doing so when a heavy satchel smacked into his face.


	2. Chapter 2

“Real grand of you, miss,” Puck drawled as he stepped out of the tree line, startling the woman enough to jump and nearly crumple on her bleeding leg. He still clutched his nose, though the bleeding had stopped rather quickly after the impact. Luck had allowed him to catch hold of a branch before the satchel could drop him to the ground; the last thing he needed was to draw the hedge wolves’ attention to himself.

The bag hung in his grip, and Puck lifted it up like a severed head, a trophy of a battle. Something miniscule inside it thrashed and clawed at the fabric. “Troublemaker, aren’t ya? Pissing off hedge wolves enough to chase you this far out into the wyldwood, then nailing me in the face with your purse.” She cringed when he dropped the hand covering his nose to flash a wolfish smile. He knew dried blood was smeared down to his chin. “Looks like you just can’t catch a break, huh?”

“I had no intention of hurting you. I hadn’t known you were there when I threw it. I’m sorry.” Puck lowered the bag and held it out for her to collect, but she only took a step away from him. Skittish thing, he thought. Probably had never been outside of the Iron Realm. After a couple more beats, he tossed it the small radius of the clearing. She did not move to catch it, instead watching it soar and land just to her right. Her eyes jumped between it and him; not a muscle unwound as she teetered on her fight-or-flight. Puck huffed a laugh and sat on the spot. Crossing his legs, he propped an elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

“I’m not gonna do anything to you. Fix your leg.” After another hesitant glance, she dropped to one knee and clutched at the bag. Whatever was inside had kicked up its fighting again, and he heard the woman’s muttering as she tried to free it.

A piskie shot up like a firework, matched with a high-pitched, metallic whine. It disappeared into the canopy, and while Puck tilted his head back to see it would barrel back down, he caught a wisp of a laugh. His neck popped as he looked back to her, injured leg stretched out with the other tucked beneath her. A roll of bandages unraveled in idle fingers as she watched him back, a blip of a smile in place.

“She’s a bit…wonky.”

“You don’t say,” he answered as the piskie’s shriek zipped by somewhere in the woods behind him. Gasping a laugh, she bowed her head to roll the remains of her pant leg up to her knee. A clear bottle of clear liquid came from her bag, and a splash of that to the wound made her yelp. The noise sent the piskie careening in from the trees to glance across the crown of her head, whipping up a cloud of strands loose from her ponytail. Puck barely managed a snicker before the speck zoomed by and nicked his ear.

“Alloy!” The piskie trilled and rushed back to the woman, ripping into Puck’s sleeve. She swung at it like killing an insect and trapped it between her hand and the ground. Its muffled screeches reached him as she fished a clear casing, meant to display a necklace, from her bag. She dropped the fistful of dirt and piskie into it and snapped it shut. The piskie, Alloy, writhed violently in its container, knocking itself from the woman’s hand and throwing itself about.

Puck cackled at the wasp-like fury and sounds of the little thing, and the Iron fey timidly joined. Her hands made quick work of the bandaging, a neat sleeve curling up her leg just turning pink as she yanked her pant down over it. She rocketed to her feet, stumbling in her haste to test the injury. That moment of fragile truce must have fled her, for before Puck could stand and attempt to help steady her, she had collected her bag and thrown the livid piskie in. Panic seized her expression as he stepped closer.

“Hey, like I said, I’m not gonna-.” A caterwaul muted by distance silenced him and trained both their attention toward her clumsy warpath.

In an instant, her body wound itself tight, and with a near-shrill, “Bye,” she shot off in the opposite direction.

Puck watched her go, listened to the trampled grass and snapping branches and frantic footfalls until he was sure he could not easily track her. He was finally learning; he knew that continuing to fraternize with the iron gal would land him in a parallel situation that Ice Boy and Meg did. There was a reason she was in the wyldwood, and it was in his best interest to not entangle himself in it.

He turned and made to blaze a path perpendicular to hers, thinking of how much trouble he was saving himself from by having some goddamn common sense for once.

Just as quickly, he swiveled on his heel, muttering an exasperated, “What the fuck.” Since when did he have common sense? That shit got in the way of all the fun, and just as much as that girl reeked of trouble, she was a shining opportunity to wreak havoc.

Hopefully, she had only made a bee-line toward the border of the Iron Realm.

**Author's Note:**

> Been writing this since middle school; I'm about to graduate high school in December. It has definitely become something much larger than I originally intended. (Once it hit 100,000 words, I figured it did me little good to keep it hidden.) Unfortunately, I have been writing in fragments, so it will take me time to organize the random scenes and connect them cohesively.  
> I just don't want this fandom to die completely, since it's clung to me for years. Hope you're in for the ride.


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